


A Girl Who Knows What's Best

by Chash



Series: Coming Out of My Cage and I've Been Doing Just Fine [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe hasn't actually seen Lexa for seven years, but Clarke and Bellamy are getting married, and they're not going to let anyone else plan that wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Girl Who Knows What's Best

**Author's Note:**

> It's possible that no one but me wants Lexa/Monroe, but that's okay, because I want it enough for all of us. Title from Cake.

Lexa is the one who hires Monroe to be Clarke's assistant, and she's half in love with her from the beginning just for that.

She didn't expect the callback for the job at all--the ad said "no prior experience necessary," but LA is a big place full of people who are established as great personal assistants, and Monroe is a nineteen-year-old nobody who moved here after her parents caught her kissing a girl and cut off her funding for college. She's been getting by waiting tables and picking up temp jobs, with no hope of getting into anything better despite her best efforts.

The call from Lexa feels like the turning point of her life, and later, when she looks back, she'll realize with wonder that it really was.

"I'm moving to Paris in a week, and my best friend can't be trusted to take care of herself. I'm hiring her an assistant."

Lexa is beautiful in the unreal way that supermodels are, all sharp angles and features that are just a little too perfect. Her eye makeup is the most flawless thing Monroe is ever seen. She's not sure if she's more aroused or terrified.

"Does she know you're hiring her an assistant?" Monroe asks.

Lexa cocks her head, like this is a question she hadn't considered. "Yes, she does. She agrees she can't take care of herself. She'll be the one paying you and telling you what to do. Well, in theory. In practice, she doesn't really know what she needs you to do, so you'll probably be telling her. I will also be available via text for consultations."

"Is she a small child?" She doesn't know how someone can just--not know how to care for themselves. Hollywood's weird, but this is weird even by those standards.

"She's Clarke Griffin."

"Oh god, she's a disaster," says Monroe, without thinking. It's not exactly true, or not the whole truth--she's a great, successful actress who makes a good living, but everything she's ever seen about her personal life has been pretty worrying. Based on the candid photos Monroe has seen, she can't dress herself, and she was definitely in jail for a few months for punching a cop in a bar fight. Still, that's probably the wrong thing to say to her _best friend_ during a _job interview_.

But Lexa smiles. It's not exactly a warm expression, but it's encouraging all the same. "Yes, she is. No one else was willing to say that."

"I mean, she's awesome, don't get me wrong. I like her movies and she seems really cool in the interviews I've read, but her personal life is--"

"An actual trainwreck," Lexa agrees. She nods, mostly to herself. "You don't have any qualifications."

"No," Monroe admits.

"But you claim you're organized and your cover letter said you were willing to stand up to people if you thought they were in the wrong."

She swallows hard, remembering her parents, how they would have been so willing to give her an out, if she'd just rolled over and pretended she wasn't gay. "Yes," she says, keeping her voice steady with an effort.

"I was hoping for more detail," says Lexa.

Monroe flexes her fingers on her leg, bunching up the material of her skirt. "My parents kicked me out when I was eighteen. They're conservative, I'm gay. They found out. I'd been fighting with them about that kind of thing my whole life. I never backed down on any of it. I'll stand up to people to my own detriment. Even if it gets me fired, probably."

"Excellent."

She can't help a little choked noise, half-laugh, half-sob. "I just told you my parents disowned me because I was too stubborn to lie to them and you think that's excellent."

"Oh, no, of course not. Your parents are monsters and they don't deserve you." She says it so matter-of-factly that Monroe can't even breathe for a minute, can't think. No one's ever said that before, and she fights not to cry. This is the worst job interview of all time. But if Lexa thinks so, there's no indication. She goes on, "But you have an excellent skill set for my purposes. You're blunt, you're organized, and you know that Clarke needs a lot of help. Your makeup is something of a tragedy, so you can't do that for her, but she's relatively competent with eye shadow, so it shouldn't be a problem. When can you start?"

Monroe gapes at her. "That's it? I'm hired?"

"Yes. Can you start before I leave next week?"

She embarrasses herself by bursting into tears; Lexa hands her a tissue without comment. Once she's collected herself, she says, "What are the hours?"

"Variable. We'll start with nine-to-five, but you'll be salaried. Generously salaried. You should expect night and weekend work occasionally, and she may have crises at all hours."

"I'm working nights waiting tables right now," she says. "I'll give notice, but I might need to finish out two weeks. I can start working during the day tomorrow, if you want."

Lexa nods again, approving. "Good. Come by at nine, you can meet Clarke."

When she does meet Clarke, she's gotten herself together, all professionalism, no tears. She is calm and collected and competent.

"She looks terrified," is the first thing Clarke tells Lexa, which was not at all what she was going for. "Did you make her cry? Please tell me you didn't make her cry."

Monroe flushes, but Lexa just scoffs. "Her makeup was horrific. I was just being honest."

She doesn't ever thank Lexa for the lie, but she always remembers it, and it takes her to about three-quarters of the way to in love with her.

Of course, it doesn't really matter, most of the time, because they don't see each other in person for another seven years.

*

_Clarke says she can plan her wedding herself. Tell her she's wrong._

Monroe has to smile when, less than a minute after she sends the text, her phone starts ringing. "I assume she told you she was getting married," she tells Lexa, by way of greeting.

"Of course. I tried to talk her out of it, but she insists she loves him and doesn't mind that weird thing his face does when he sneezes."

"You've met him like twice, you've probably never seen him sneeze. Besides, everyone's face does weird things when they sneeze. Tell her I need to plan her wedding."

"Nonsense," says Lexa, absent. "I'm planning it. You need to work for a living, I can't let you take the time off you'd need to do it properly. I'll do it." She pauses. "But obviously I will consult you regularly. I'm already booking a flight to Dulles. I can't believe they airport she lives closest to is _Dulles_. She needs to reexamine her life. I hate Dulles."

The last time Lexa was in the states, Monroe couldn't get off work to see her, and it probably would have been weird if she had, because she and Lexa aren't _friends_. She doesn't know what they are. They used to be the official Clarke Griffin Support Group, but Clarke is actually doing pretty well with her life now, and when she isn't, she goes to Bellamy, because Bellamy's the new Clarke Griffin Support Group. Monroe's happy for her, really, she is, but--well, she misses having excuses to talk to Lexa.

"How long are you going to be in Virginia?"

"Until the wedding's planned or I get tired of it." There's a pause and then she says, "I'm moving back to LA after. I'm done with Paris."

Something lodges in Monroe's throat, a strange, huge lump. "Oh," she says. "Cool."

*

It's not like Monroe has been pining over Lexa for seven years. She's had a few girlfriends, one that was even pretty serious, and a handful of more casual relationships. It's not like she really thinks the gorgeous, world-famous supermodel would ever want to _date her_. She's not even sure Lexa dates, apart from Clarke, and she's never gotten many details on that relationship, no matter how drunk Clarke got.

But she'll be in LA again, and that can't help feeling like _something_.

*

Lexa texts a lot once she's in Virginia. Most of it is wedding related, and it's--nice. In a Lexa way, which means that she's usually either demanding Monroe do something for her ("Clarke refuses to decide on a color for the flowers and Bellamy is pretending he is COLORBLIND to annoy me, you pick while I find something to strangle him with.") or telling Monroe that she's already made a decision and no one is allowed to contradict her ("Here is Clarke's dress. It will be lovely. DO NOT TELL HER WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE. She was not paying attention and does not deserve to know."), but Monroe likes being kept in the loop, and she's pretty sure Lexa knows that. She gets calls every few days, ranging from "Arcadia is so boring, I don't understand how Clarke hasn't died" to "How do I get better at Smash Brothers," until it just gets to be routine, and they're chatting regularly about their lives.

Once she realizes _that's_ happening, she freaks out and calls Clarke.

"Do you know what my wedding dress looks like?" Clarke asks.

"Yes, but I'm not allowed to tell you."

She sighs. "That's what I thought you'd say. Is it nice?"

"Lexa picked it. Of course it's nice."

"Right," says Clarke, letting out a breath. "Good point. What's up? How are you? Thanks for helping out long distance."

"I'm good. Sorry I can't be there."

"Me too. It doesn't feel right, not having you here. But I cannot in good conscience encourage you to quit your job to come to Virginia to do part-time wedding planning with Lexa."

"I wish you could."

"Maybe you guys could start a business. You'd be great professional wedding planners."

"I think we might be friends," Monroe blurts out, which is embarrassing. "We keep talking about our lives. It's freaking me out."

Clarke pauses and then says, "That's good, right? You like her."

It's never been clear to Monroe exactly how much Clarke knows about her whole thing for Lexa, if the teasing is based on an awareness of Monroe's actual feelings, or if Clarke just thinks it's funny. Or maybe both. Either way, she's grateful she's at home alone, because the question makes her blush.

"Yeah, but--we've been chatting. I didn't think she chatted."

"I told her to work on it," Clarke says. "Just give her a chance, okay?"

Monroe opens and closes her mouth a few times, and finally settles on a flat, "What."

"What? She doesn't actually have a lot of friends in LA, other than you. I'm worried about her going back. I don't want her to be lonely." The _without me_ is unspoken, but it makes Monroe smile all the same. It's sweet, really, how much Clarke and Lexa have each other's backs.

"I doubt she'll be lonely," she says, even though she's not sure it's really true. Lexa never mentions much by way of friends, and never has. She has acquaintances and she has Clarke, and, just like Monroe, she doesn't really have Clarke like she used to. "But if course I'll hang out with her if she wants."

There's a pause, and then Clarke makes a huffing sound that Monroe recognizes as one of Bellamy's. "You know, I've heard weddings are great places to get laid."

Monroe swallows hard. "Yeah, I've heard that too."

*

They do a conference call to figure out the wedding party. Or, really, Lexa calls Monroe and puts her on speaker phone, which makes her ache a little. She wants to be there.

"So, we have to have--" Bellamy is saying.

"Lexa, Monroe, and Wells," says Clarke. "Or maybe not Wells. I'm figuring out what to do with Wells. Is it bad if two-thirds of the people on my side are exes?"

"You have trouble with friendship," says Lexa, dismissive. "Me, Monroe, possibly Wells. Who else?"

"Me," says Bellamy's sister. "Lincoln?"

"Lincoln is a maybe, depending on numbers," says Clarke. "Sorry, Octavia. Raven and Wick, Miller."

"Clarke's side could be me, Lexa, and Raven," Monroe suggests. "And Wells could walk you down the aisle. Then Bellamy has Octavia, Miller, and Wick." She pauses. "Wick is a guy, right?"

"He's already got one girl, so it doesn't matter much, but yeah," says Clarke. "That probably works?"

"Who gets to be best man, me or Miller?" Octavia demands.

"I was thinking Miller," says Bellamy, amused. "You lack the correct gender identification for--ow! Mature, O."

"I'll switch with her," Lexa says. "Then she can be maid of honor, and I'll go on Bellamy's side." There's a pause and some scuffling and then she hears Lexa say "Get off me, do you bathe in your own sweat?" so Monroe assumes Bellamy is hugging her.

"You're not going to be on my side?" Clarke asks, voice a little wistful.

"I'm always on your side. But I'm already planning the wedding, Octavia can take the bachelorette party. I don't want to deal with it. Besides, I don't want to walk down the aisle with Miller. I'll do it with Monroe."

Monroe is simultaneously glad she's not there so they can't see her expression and sad she isn't because she can't see theirs either. "Or I could go on Bellamy's side. I like Bellamy fine."

"Thanks, Monroe," he says, amused. "I like you fine too. Up to you, Clarke," he adds, voice going gentle. It's easy to be a little sad that she doesn't have Clarke anymore, because working for Clarke was her best job ever, and Harper just isn't nearly as much fun. But the rest of the time, she's just really fucking _happy_ , because Clarke and Bellamy are great together. It makes her feel like a proud parent, never mind that she's a year younger than Clarke.

"Lexa on Bellamy's side," Clarke says without hesitation. "Monroe's mine. And I want Lexa to walk her down the aisle too."

*

Lexa doesn't call that night, but she calls the next. Apparently she, Miller, Miller's husband, and someone named Indra dominated at some trivia thing and she wants to gloat. Monroe only manages to half pay attention, because Lexa wants to _walk down the aisle_ with her, and that's dominating most of her thoughts.

"So you like Miller," she finally says, when Lexa finishes a (hopefully exaggerated) anecdote about how Bellamy cried when he lost.

"Yes, he's excellent."

"But you don't want to walk down the aisle with him."

"He's married and we're both gay," she says. "My chances for getting laid seemed low."

"I think you can get laid even if we don't walk down the aisle together," Monroe says, and then flushes because she meant in general, and it ended up sounding like a promise.

But Lexa just hums. "Good."

*

Clarke is working when Monroe's flight lands, so it's Bellamy and Lexa who come to get her, Bellamy holding a sign that says _Our Favorite_ in Clarke's bold, messy handwriting, Lexa with her arms crossed, looking deliberately out the window. 

Monroe was surprised to discover she was already friends with Bellamy the first time she met him. They both loved Clarke, and it was impossible not to like each other too--the transitive law of friendship. He drops the sign as soon as he spots her, picks her up and twirls her around, just like he always does, and she hugs him back, laughing.

It's not really a surprise when he puts her down in front of Lexa, but it's still overwhelming. She's seen her in the last seven years, of course, in videos of runway shows and advertisements, but in person, it's different. She's not wearing much makeup, and her face is softer than Monroe remembers it. She's still inhumanly beautiful.

"You don't look like you're on the verge of tears," says Lexa, by way of greeting. "That's good."

"I haven't been continuously on the verge of tears for seven years."

She nods, once, curt approval. Monroe can't stop looking at her. "I'm glad."

Bellamy clears his throat. "I'll go grab the car, you two can wait here."

Lexa shoots him a sharp look. "That's idiotic, we'd have to be here for longer. We'll just go with you."

He rolls his eyes. "See if I try to do you any more favors."

He grabs Monroe's bag for her and lugs it to his car, which isn't quite as much of a hunk of junk as Clarke's, but it's not like that's saying much.

"Can't Clarke buy you something nicer?" Lexa asks, following Monroe's line of sight.

"I'm holding out for a motorcycle," he says.

Lexa practically shoves Monroe into shotgun and slides in behind Bellamy herself, putting her knees up on the back of his seat; he moves the seat all the way back in retaliation, and she slouches lower, pushing harder against his back. It's strange to realize the two of them are close too, acting almost like siblings, the kind who don't know how to be affectionate and antagonize each other instead.

Lexa had better not decide to move to Virginia, because then Monroe would have to, just so she didn't feel left out. It's been bad enough, being stuck in LA while everyone else is planning the wedding. She has other friends, but Clarke and Lexa are her favorites, the ones she _trusts_. It's not rational, but it's true.

Clarke gets home about half an hour after they do, and there's more hugging, and video games while Bellamy cooks dinner. Monroe's kind of a shark at Wii games, so she smokes both Clarke and Lexa without breaking a sweat, and then Lexa insists on watching her to learn her secrets, which mostly just means she's incredibly self-conscious and a lot worse than she normally is.

It's bizarre, really--the four of them have never all been in the same place together, and it seems like it should be awkward. But it feels like they've done this a thousand times, like it's just routine. 

After dinner, Clarke and Bellamy leave to do the dishes, which is about the least subtle way to leave her and Lexa alone possible. But if Lexa notices, she gives no indication. Instead, she says, "I should get back to the hotel, we have an early day tomorrow."

"Yeah," says Monroe, for lack of anything else to say. She's crashing in Clarke and Bellamy's guest room, so she doesn't need a ride or anything. And there's no real reason Lexa should stay.

Lexa nods and then looks her up and down, appraising. "It's good to see you, Monroe. I missed you."

And then she leaves before Monroe can say anything.

*

The next few days are more of the same. The wedding is a week away, and they're both in last-minute planning mode, terrifying all of Clarke and Bellamy's friends and relations with their ruthless, totalitarian efficiency. It's the most fun Monroe has had in _years_.

The only thing they're not in charge of is Clarke's bachelorette party, which is Octavia's responsibility. It's surprisingly low key; Octavia talks her boss into letting her have Tondici for the night, and she rents a karaoke machine. Clarke's mother sunk a lot of money into singing lessons for her as a child, but despite Abby Griffin's best efforts, her daughter sings with a lot of heart and very little skill. Still, she loves it in spite of all that, and it's a fun night. She and Lexa duet "I Will Always Love You" for Clarke, and Clarke and Lexa do "Wind Beneath My Wings" for her, which gets her choked up, much to her embarrassment. Raven pretends to be above it all, and Octavia teases her about how awful she must be until she finally gets up and does "Single Ladies," flawlessly, with all the appropriate dance moves.

Maybe moving out here wouldn't be the worst thing. If they end up luring Lexa away.

"I'm really happy you're here," Clarke tells her, once she's finished all of the special bachelorette party shots Octavia made. Judging from the smell, the last one was just straight gasoline. "I thought you might not like me anymore. After I moved."

"You're so drunk. I'm embarrassed for you," Monroe says, because she's not good with genuine emotional outbursts. "Why wouldn't I like you?"

"I paid you to hang out with me."

"You paid me to work for you. But I like you."

"Yeah." She gives Monroe a calculating look. "You're going to take care of Lexa, right? I wasn't ever good at taking care of her. We weren't--we didn't know how to do that part for each other. But you could do that. You guys could take over the world."

Lexa is at the bar, talking to Octavia. She's smiling more than Monroe has ever seen, which isn't saying much. She's seen Lexa more in the last five days than she has in the last seven years. All her expressions are new.

"If she wants me to take care of her, I will," she says.

"Good," says Clarke. She fishes her phone out of her pocket. "Can I call Bellamy? Or am I not allowed to see him? Is it bad luck? It's not like he can see my wedding dress over the phone."

"You're not wearing your wedding dress."

"That too! So I can definitely call him."

Wick organized Bellamy's bachelor party, so Monroe puts it at even odds that he's actually passed out in a ditch somewhere. "Why don't we go home and see if he's there?" she suggests. "He might be done already."

"Good call," says Clarke. "Then we could _kiss_."

Monroe snorts. "You could, yes." They head over to the bar and Octavia slides Clarke a bottle of water, like the considerate future sister-in-law that she is. "We're heading out. She's getting married tomorrow, I don't want to have to pass out in her car."

"I'll help," says Lexa, and the two of them get Clarke into shotgun without much trouble, and then there's this awkward moment where Lexa just looks at her, and Monroe doesn't know what to say. 

Lexa must not either, because instead of saying anything, she leans in and kisses Monroe.

It's soft and quick, just a brush of lips, nothing like how she thought Lexa would kiss, when she let herself pretend Lexa would want to.

But Lexa does want to, clearly. Lexa _did_.

"See you tomorrow," she says, brushing a strand of hair away from Monroe's face, absent.

"She wants you to take care of her," Clarke says when Monroe gets into the car.

"Drink your water, or you're going to be hungover for your wedding," says Monroe, and gives her hands a minute to stop shaking before she starts the car.

*

The wedding is beautiful, of course; Lexa planned it, and Lexa would never let Clarke's wedding be anything but gorgeous. Monroe expects it'll be awkward to walk down the aisle with her after the kiss, but it's probably no more awkward than it would have been without it. Lexa has elected to wear a suit, and she looks really good; Monroe keeps getting distracted looking at her during the ceremony, but she can't imagine Clarke notices or cares. If Monroe and Lexa hook up because of this wedding, Clarke will be thrilled.

The ceremony is short and sweet--minimal introduction, simple vows, a kiss. Monroe still cries, of course, but she was prepared for that. The entire wedding could have just been Clarke saying "Let's do this thing" and Monroe would have cried. Clarke isn't the first person she knows to be getting married, but she's the first one she loves.

Once the ceremony is over, they have to take some pictures, which are also minimal, because Clarke and Bellamy are prioritizing the reception. There's an awesome buffet, a huge dance floor, and a truly staggering amount of free booze.

"Some people came a long way!" says Clarke. "Like you! You deserve booze for coming all the way to Virginia."

"I think she's still drunk from last night," says Bellamy fondly. His arm has been around her since the wedding ended, and Monroe's not convinced it's ever going to leave her shoulders. 

She's not going to cry again.

"I might be still drunk from last night," Clarke confirms. "Hair of the dog. I definitely need to drink more."

Bellamy grins, all dopey and lovestruck. "I get to be married to her," he tells Monroe proudly.

"Congrats," says Monroe, gruff. Clarke disentangles from Bellamy long enough to hug her, and then drags her husband over to the booze.

Monroe eats a little and drinks a little, but when the dancing starts up, she wanders outside, because she just--she's feeling everything too much, and she can't quite deal.

It's early October, air a little crisp and leaves all gold and orange. She leans on the railing of the porch, looking out at the cool evening and trying not to cry again. It feels like the end of something, which doesn't even make sense. Clarke hasn't been a regular part of her life for four years, hasn't been a regular part of her life for longer than she was Clarke's assistant, but it's still the end of a chapter of her life, somehow.

"Here," says Lexa, giving her a flute of champagne. 

"Thanks."

She rests her back against the railing, looking inside instead out. She's still wearing the suit, her hair up in an elaborate braid, and Monroe wonders how to go from how she's feeling right now to getting laid.

"You know, right up until she said she was moving to Virginia, a part of me thought we'd end up together," Lexa remarks, not exactly to Monroe. "It wasn't exactly that I wanted to--I loved her, but I wasn't pining, and it wasn't even romantic, most of the time. It just felt like the way the story would go." Her smile is all edges. "That's what we get, growing up in Hollywood. We assume everything is like the movies."

"Sorry," says Monroe, for lack of anything better.

"Don't be. She's much happier with him than she ever could have been with me. And I'm happy too. I haven't been in love with her for years, like I said." She considers. "I'm not very good at being in love with people."

Monroe swallows. "Why are you coming back to LA?"

"They'll probably start reproducing soon, I doubt I can be a godmother if I don't live in the country."

"You'll have to fight Octavia for it."

"I'm surprised I haven't fought Octavia already."

"True." 

They lull into companionable silence; Monroe sips her champagne, and Lexa watches the people dancing inside.

"Have your parents ever tried to get in touch with you again?" Lexa asks. It's actually the last thing Monroe ever would have expected her to ask.

"Yeah. Once or twice."

"What happened?"

"I didn't pick up the phone," she says. She shrugs, a little awkward. "They had their chance. I gave them a lot of chances, back when I was a kid. They never tried."

Lexa grins, all white teeth, _beautiful_ , and then she kisses Monroe. This time it's how she thought it would be, Lexa firm and commanding, taking control and not giving an inch.

"You do not have normal human reactions to hearing about my parents," Monroe says between kisses, because she isn't going to fight Lexa, but she's also not just going to roll over.

"They don't appreciate you, they don't deserve to have you, I'm glad you know that," says Lexa, and kisses her deeper, stealing all her desire to respond. She just winds her arms around Lexa, leaning up into the kiss, because she doesn't really want to talk when there could be kissing happening instead.

They pull apart only when the door opens and the sound of the party comes out. Lexa glances over and Monroe's momentarily distracted by the line of her neck before she turns too.

"They're about to do toasts," says Miller, looking apologetic. "Thought you wouldn't want to miss it."

"No, we wouldn't. Thank you," says Lexa. She takes Monroe's hand and pulls her in, and Monroe's surprised when she doesn't let go when they get inside. She wouldn't have expected Lexa to hold hands, but she doesn't really know anything about Lexa in relationships.

But it looks like she's going to find out.

*

"Does Clarke always tell you we're going to hook up, or is that just me?" Monroe asks, finally. They're watching Bellamy and Octavia do their sibling dance while Clarke and Raven drunkenly try to figure out how to waltz.

"She tends to tell me we're going to get married," says Lexa. "Usually after I make a reference to your obvious crush on me." Monroe winces, and Lexa says, "It wasn't really very obvious. I was fishing, and Clarke knew it. That's why she teased me about it." When Monroe still doesn't say anything, she adds, "I do keep kissing you. Why else would I be kissing you?"

"I was having trouble figuring that out," says Monroe, and then makes a face. "You're kind of a big deal."

"I am," Lexa agrees. "You're cute," she says, like this is a full explanation of a supermodel wanting to make out with _her_.

"Thanks," she says. "You're kind of terrifyingly hot."

"That's what I try for, yes." She looks at Monroe, considering. "You're not going to get laid tonight." She goes on before Monroe really has time to be heartbroken, but there's still a sharp, acrid moment of hurt. "I'm trying out this new thing where I date you, and I understand that dates are the first step, and then getting laid. Clarke will murder me if I don't do this right. She gave me a serious talk the night before you flew in, about not fucking it up."

Monroe swallows past a lump in her throat, looking back at Clarke, laughing against Raven's neck. "She wants us to take care of each other," she says.

Lexa snorts. "It's sweet that she thinks she's enough of an adult to be looking out for us."

"She's married. And happy."

Her expression softens, turns affectionate, and Monroe finds herself smiling in response. It's nice, loving the same people. "She is happy." She clears her throat, a little flushed. It's a new look for Lexa. "I wouldn't mind. If you wanted to take care of me. It's been a while."

Monroe weaves their fingers together, and it's the simplest thing in the world. "I'm good at taking care of people. I have a resume. References and everything."

Lexa squeezes her hand. "You can show them to me over dinner," she says, and Monroe laughs.

She does bring her resume to their first date, just because she can, and Lexa goes over it with red pen because apparently she thinks Monroe needs to be more assertive about her skillset. Afterward, they make out in Monroe's car, and she decides that if Clarke's wedding was the end of a chapter of her life, this is a pretty damn good beginning for the next one.


End file.
